Frock no more

In my past life, before I had kids, I used to love a good frock up. I would make a new dress for a special occasion or just in the hope of a special occasion.

I made this one just before I found out I was pregnant for no other reason than I thought it was so fabulously glamorous. I wore it with three inch heels…of course. I got to wear it once.

It would another seven years before I could actually fit into again.

I was so excited that we fitted each other again, that I wore it to a recent wedding with the same heels…of course. It is a lovely dress, gives lots of flattering curves but also lots of vertical construction lines to make the shortest feel tall and willowly.

Goodness glory! Never have I experienced so much pain! It felt like my feet were raw, bloody stumps. I had to take many, many tiny steps because the dress is so narrow at the ankle. I had to go down stairs sideways because the shoes had ankle straps and my foot couldn’t bend.

Was it always like this? Is this how glamour feels? It has been so long I can no longer remember. Perhaps it is like childbirth, you forget the pain and just remember how beautiful it all was.

I know now I should have practiced in the shoes. I should have worn gel cushions in the shoes. Or maybe I’ll just put on a smock and sandals.

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What? No photos of this glorious dress in its entirety? That little picture is just a tease! (And I’m all for glamorous dresses, when the occasion calls for it, but life is far too short to wear uncomfortable shoes.)

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A wee introduction…

Hi there, my name is Rebecca. I live in the Central Goldfields Region of Victoria, Australia, on Wadawarrung land. This is the place where I share my slow clothing adventures: explorations and reflections on spinning, knitting, sewing and other radical acts of making.

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